


Lay Me Gently in the Cold Dark Earth

by Little_Guy



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: A worldbuilding exercise, Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Gen, Light Angst, Monster Dust (Undertale), Underfell Asgore Dreemurr, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Guy/pseuds/Little_Guy
Summary: Edge is the groundskeeper. One of the only monsters in the underground who wasn’t unnerved by the fact of what happens to those who dust. He tried to honor them as best he could.
Relationships: Asgore Dreemurr & Papyrus
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	Lay Me Gently in the Cold Dark Earth

The estate looked beautiful today. Solid and whole in a way that so many of the other houses and businesses in the Underground weren’t. Cool marble and an even colder interior are what welcomed him as Edge stepped into the throne room. King Asgore was present today—whether all of him was also here remained to be seen.

Arm coming up to cross over his chest, hand firmly over where his soul is, Edge stood straight as a wall in front of the King. The standard military rest in their Underground. Edge continued even if the monster before him had tried to dissuade him too many times to count; it was the highest form of respect that he could give his King. 

“Hello, old friend,” Asgore said heavy and slow as he always seemed to be as late. Edge doesn’t fall out of his rest. Or set his supplies down. “It is good to see you once more. How many have fallen whilst I was unaware?” 

He was present then. All of him. 

“SIX. THE MAJORITY FROM HOTLAND, KING ASGORE.” 

“So many…” 

“UNFORTUNATELY.” It wasn’t a lie. The more monsters that fell the less hope there was in the Underground. The food shortage had been particularly rough this time. With King Asgore back entirely—and not in and out of focus; lost to old memories—perhaps the shortage would be sorted out when he, his Lieutenant and the Scientist could next sit down with their King. 

“And you have brought them?” Asgore prompted. His steps made the room shake as if they were experiencing an earthquake. Edge stood still; this was nothing new in the grand scheme of things. 

“AS ALWAYS, KING ASGORE.” 

The King lumbered from his throne fur dull and matted as if he’d been sitting there for days on end. Edge didn’t doubt it. His King hadn’t dealt well with anything since his children died and his wife absconded in the middle of the night. 

He didn’t doubt that this last, gentle gift he could give his subjects was all that was really keeping him together. Giving him a reason to come back from whatever nightmares that kept him trapped in his own mind. Edge was no fool. Their world was Kill or Be Killed, but not once—nor ever, he suspected—would a monster raise a hand toward the King. as lost in his grief as he was, Asgore was a being of kindness deep down, and many of them used it as a sigil of hope of their own; that they would no longer be reduced to such mania. 

“They are beautiful,” Said Asgore in a breath. His claws so long, so sharp that Edge  _ knew  _ he could slice a column in half without even trying—he’d seen it. Ages ago—curl ever so carefully around the developing roots of one of the many flowers in Edge’s bag. “I think I’d like to help, old friend. I will make us some tea while you work.” 

“OF COURSE, KING ASGORE.”

“Oh, Edge what have I said about such formalities?” 

“IT WOULD BE DISRESPECTFUL, KING ASGORE.” 

Asgore shook his head face pinched into what Edge now knew was a forlorn acceptance that he was not a monster who could drop formality. Still, the King smiles, world-weary and open. “Of course, Captain. I will return shortly with our tea… do leave some of the people for me.” 

Moving to rest on his knees once the King left Edge dug through his bag. Every end of the week he returned here. First he removed the trowel, then the various smaller bags containing dust that he could gather. He’d thought an odd request at first when he was first given the appellation of Captain, to gather the dead and bring them here, then as time went on he understood. 

This was the last kindness that King Asgore could give them until the barrier broke; a beautiful place to rest with others. To grow tall and well. Edge was both Captain and Groundskeeper, all due to the fact that what happened to monsters after they dusted didn’t unnerve him. 

They became part of the Underground. A sorrowful thing to most—always being able to look at the plants and know that it was once a monster, a monster full of hopes and dreams. Now only able to grow into if it was given proper care and a steady hand every day. Couldn’t understand works spoken to them because they no longer were  _ someone.  _

King Asgore gave them a place to rest when they dusted and returned. A safe place to grow when they were otherwise too young when alive. Edge helped care for them because he was one of the only monsters that didn’t find the cycle unnerving. 

“THERE’S A BUTTERCUP, KING ASGORE.” Edge said cradling it as careful as one might porcelain. He’d never figured himself fit for this work, but Edge was nothing but a perfectionist and when the King wasn’t in the right state of mind, he took care of it all. 

There’s a shuddery kind of exhale as the King returns two warm cups of tea in hand. Edge sets it aside for the King handing him the trowel as the larger monster holds it close. He’d seen scenes like this more than he could count, he would say that it’s normal now, even.

“They loved them you know,” Asgore shared his paws shaking even as Edge diverted his gaze to the cup in front of him. He was loyal to his King. Kept his weakness pressed deep inside his rib cage under lock and key so that none would have even the slightest thought of striking the King down. 

Because Edge was one of the monsters that saw him as a beacon of hope. Used him as a sign of how things could be. How he could be. King Asgore was not a cruel monster—he’d shared on one of his particularly hazy days that he hated the slaughtering of the humans. Wished for it to end so they could be free, but deep down regretted declaring war. 

“I think they would be saddened to see the people like this,” Asgore continued. “To see me like this… perhaps it is time, old friend, for me to be honest.” 

Edge smooths out the earth around the newly planted flower. It gleamed just as bright as the other Buttercups. The King had said that numerous times before, as well.

“THAT IS UP TO YOU, KING ASGORE. I WOULD NOT OFFER ANYTHING UP AS IT IS NOT MY PLACE TO SAY SUCH.” 

A sigh. “...Perhaps a different time then,” Without looking up Edge moves onto the next flowers that have sprouted from the dust as King Asgore sips his tea. “Thank you for coming, old friend. The halls are so lonely now… I’m afraid it is these small things and you that are all that keeps me gripped to this realm.”

“THE REST OF YOUR PEOPLE.” Edge reminded. The Forget-Me-Nots he places in a small vase on the King’s table. “THEY STILL HOPE TO SEE YOU. WHETHER IT IS FOR PROGRESS OR TO WALK AMONGST THEM ONCE MORE.”

“Yes, yes you’re right, old friend,” Asgore lumbered toward his throne once more, cape trailing along the path where no flowers grew until he settled into his throne once more. He looked tired. No doubt his energy was already spent with this little interaction. Another breath of air as chilled as the snow from Edge’s home, “Next time,” He continued, “Next time you visit I will join you on your exit to see everyone.” 

“OF COURSE, KING ASGORE.”

This would be the hundredth or so time the King had said such a thing. It was normal now.

Rising from his place on the ground Edge made his exit. The estate looked beautiful today. Solid and whole, but utterly broken in a way that so many other places in the Underground were not. Cool marble and an even colder home are what latch onto him as he exits the throne room. King Asgore would speak to him again, possibly, upon his next return—whether all of him would be there remained to be seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of just a random thing after listening to Hozier non-stop. 
> 
> I guess i have a writing/headcanon blog?  
> [the blog](https://little-guy-writes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
